


Detectiving

by AnnabellaOcean



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 03:26:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3103784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnabellaOcean/pseuds/AnnabellaOcean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Get out," she breathes, her voice barely audible.</p><p>But Gina just stays where she is, gaze unwavering, and Rosa is once again reminded of the fact that despite being selfish, vain, vapid, lazy, cruel and narcissistic, Gina isn't actually dumb. "Do you really want me to?" Gina drawls.</p><p>(Set during S01E16, "The Party." Rosa and Gina get drunk and attempt to bone down. With the number of issues between the two of them, that's guaranteed to go badly even when it goes well – but this time around, it actually goes pretty well for going so badly.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Detectiving

**Author's Note:**

> This began as an attempt to write porn and rapidly veered into completely different territory. Enjoy!

The evening starts poorly, and quickly plunges into utter chaos.

Amy is slinking around, clandestinely taking iPhone photos of every inch of the Captain's house; Jake, meanwhile, is awkwardly shadowing Holt's husband, trying to get a word in edgewise and ruining his every chance to make a good impression. From the other room, Scully's ridiculous operatic singing can be heard, no doubt drowning out every attempt at conversation and making Hitchcock cry like an idiot.

Rosa hasn't seen Boyle in a while, but he's doubtlessly boring the crap out of some poor university prof who does not want to hear a fifty-minute lecture on modern Sudanese cuisine, and as for Sergeant Jeffords... well, he's doing well enough, but he keeps having to rudely snub whoever he was talking with off in order to keep his detectives in line. All in all, it is a disaster.

It's one of the better parties Rosa has attended.

On the other hand – and utterly, completely shockingly – Gina is not doing too badly. In fact, she's the life of the party, flouncing around on one of Holt's sofas and wowing an audience of spellbound shrinks. Of all the sad, sad sights there are to see tonight, it's this one that Rosa can't quite tear herself from.

"Sometimes I have whole dreams where I dive naked into a swimming pool full of cupcake frosting," Gina is saying. "One time I was sharing a bed with a guy who said I was moving around all night. Like a dog running in its sleep."

Rosa can't help but grin at the absurdity of the mental image. She raises the glass of scotch which she intimidated a waiter into pouring for her, and takes a swig. She's going to need a new one soon enough.

Someone bumps into her from behind. Rosa turns around, getting ready to knock a few teeth out, but it's just Santiago, apparently taking a panorama shot of the banister. Amy whirls around, her expression going from apologetic to relieved. "Oh, Diaz. I didn't see you."

Without breaking eye contact, Rosa downs the rest of the scotch, then hands Amy the empty glass, the ice clinking on the bottom. "I needed a refill anyway," she says, unsmiling.

Santiago's mouth works silently as her gaze moves between the glass now in her hand and Rosa's face. Under the force of Rosa's stare, her protests die on her lips.

She returns soon enough, just as Gina is telling the psychologists about how she will change her underwear up to eight hundred times every morning before deciding on a set to wear. The image is so— _ridiculous_ —that Rosa doesn't even notice Amy appearing next to her with a scotch glass in her hand until Amy clears her throat four or five times.

Rosa glances at the glass once and says, "I wanted a double."

"W—well, this scotch is the _Captain's,_ " Amy stutters, in hushed, defensive tones. "And—and it's like twenty years old—"

Rosa just reaches out and grabs the glass out of Santiago's hands, nipping that little lecture in the bud. Amy comes to a sputtering stop, fizzling out as Rosa directs all her attention back at Gina's loyal court of academics.

"So, she's still at it, huh?" Amy asks after a moment, following Rosa's gaze.

Lip quirking up in a smile, Rosa nods. "Yeah. I've been watching her for forty minutes." She takes a sip of her scotch. "I'm gonna say she's feeding them a roughly fifty-fifty ratio of truth and bullshit."

"Sometimes I make out with myself in the mirror," Gina is saying, her grin positively shit-eating from all the attention. "But not, like, in a weird way? It's just, like, when I get out of the shower, so I'm already standing in front of the mirror, so it's just like, I might as well, right?"

"And which one was that?" Amy mutters, making a face.

Rosa ponders for a moment before responding. "I have absolutely no clue." Their conversation dies out, and Amy starts to drift away a little, so Rosa adds: "Oh, and for the record, I'd say this scotch is Kevin's. I've got Holt figured for more of a wine guy." She doesn't get a response.

Once again left comfortably alone, Rosa is free enjoy the show that is Gina.

Enjoying in the sense of laughing at how pathetic it is, of course. And it is pathetic, seeing Gina put her intensely weird and sexual baggage on display at the Captain's birthday party.

"Sometimes I just, like, can't stop masturbating. I mean I literally am unable to stop. This one time, I was literally begging myself for mercy, but my hands just kept going, you know?"

What's even more pathetic is the lingering mental images unfolding in her head, like a private porno reel in her mind.

"My biggest fantasy has got to be, like, a chick with a dick."

Oh _Christ._ Rosa turns on her heel, shouldering a suit out of the way and retreating into the kitchen.

She's downed another two double scotches by the time Holt finds her. "Detective Diaz. Hiding in my kitchen and drinking my husband's liquor?"

"Yep," Rosa replies curtly, her face betraying none of the small triumph she feels at being right about the scotch. "What's up?"

"I'm ejecting you from my home, along with every other member of the squad, on account of Sergeant Jeffords and Detectives Santiago and Peralta flagrantly disregarding me and my husband's boundaries."

"Wait, boundaries? Oh man, what did they do?" Rosa asks, unable to contain her curiosity.

"They went upstairs, despite the very clearly worded sign on the stairs asking them not to," Holt elaborates. (Rosa purses her lips and nods, a little disappointed to have gotten such an uninteresting response.) "The others have already left. I'm sorry, but I have to ask you to go as well."

Rosa stares at the floor for a moment, then shrugs, looking up and meeting Captain's gaze. "Fine. I was having a boring time anyway." It's true. Listening to Gina earlier was infinitely more interesting than hanging out in the kitchen. Rosa slams the last of the scotch, ignoring the impassive Holt stare directed at her as she leaves the glass on the counter and heads out.

She takes a cab home. During the ride, she becomes aware that she is drunk, and decides to go straight to bed and sleep in late in the morning. Only, her plan runs into a complication. Namely, an complication in garish lipstick, on her landing in the apartment building where she lives, leaning against the banister and whistling Britney Spears's "Toxic" way, way off-key.

"How do you know where I live?" Rosa asks in her most threatening tone of voice, which, after a lifetime of practice at threatening people, is really saying something.

Of course, Gina is the only person on the planet to be completely unflappable in the face of Rosa's fury, with the possible exception of Captain Holt – the difference being that while Holt has infinite reserves of composure and self-control at his disposal, Gina is just deranged.

"I know everything about everyone," Gina says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, and Rosa is an idiot for asking. "That's kind of how this whole thing works. I get the dirt on all of you, so that the day when you all try to mutiny against Captain Holt, he'll have something to use against you. It's literally my job description."

Rosa crosses her arms, glaring for a few moments before responding. "You're Holt's assistant. Your job description is to take his calls and keep track of his appointments, plus oversee the filing for the entire precinct, none of which you do." She sighs. "Whatever. Get out."

"Mm, no," Gina drawls. "You don't mean that."

Rosa takes a step closer, which is usually a foolproof way to win an argument for her. It doesn't work this time. "Get _out._ "

"Noo-ooo," Gina says, drawing the word out infuriatingly and tipping from side to side for emphasis. "You can't say one thing and do another, Rosa."

Rosa raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" she asks, despite herself.

"At the party, silly," Gina clarifies. "Well, I was kind of loving the attention... but come on, I'm both stunning _and_ stunningly interesting. It's not weird I was keeping everyone entertained basically without even trying. But you stuck around and watched me."

"So?" Rosa says. "The sarge told me to."

"Mm, but _he_ was worried I'd mess something up. Come on. You could have watched anyone else from the precinct making a total idiot of themselves, but you stuck around."

Rosa's patience, short even at the best of times, is fraying fast. "Get to the point."

"The point is," Gina drawls in exasperation, "that since you obviously found me so interesting, I thought I'd go all-out on the weird sex issues for your benefit. You know, just to make you squirm."

"Oh my fucking God," Rosa growls, not pleased that Gina actually has succeeded in making her squirm tonight and even less pleased that Gina knows it. "So that was all bullshit."

Gina raises her hand again and wiggles it in the air. "No, I'd say I went about fifty-fifty."

Rosa doesn't smile, but she does allow herself a short bark of laughter. "So which parts of it was true?"

"Oh boy," Gina said, making a little face. "I'd love to tell you, but honestly, Rosa, this hasn't been a great night for your whole scary stoic bit already, and this would just make it worse..."

Simultaneously nettled and intrigued, Rosa crosses her arms again and glares. "No, I wanna know."

"Oh, Rosa, Rosa..." Gina sighs, slowly shaking her head. She steps closer, clearly unsteady on her feet from the wine drink, but obviously with purpose. She steps very close, in fact – close enough that their breasts brush together and Rosa has to fight off a sudden, completely unaccustomed impulse to back away. "I mean much worse," Gina breathes, and Rose catches the sour smell of wine on her breath and finds herself unable to tear her eyes away from Gina's lips. "I mean, like, you're going to be on your knees and begging me to let you cum, and that'd just be super embarrassing for you at work on Monday."

Rosa's face does not move, even as she gapes internally and the impulse to back away becomes one to back up against the wall. Not a single muscle in her face moves. She's sure of it. Yet all the same, Gina, looking up into her eyes, breaks into a grin, as if she'd just completely lost her composure.

"Sorry, Diaz," Gina says softly. "I'm way more than you can handle."

Rosa's fists clench. Gina is mocking her. Gina is making fun of her and God, if it isn't the hottest, most infuriating thing ever. "Bitch," Rosa says seethingly, only for it to turn into a gasp as Gina matter-of-factly reaches up to cup one of her breasts in her hand, squeezing it once or twice. Rosa _doesn't_ gasp. Rosa _never_ gasps.

Gina just giggles. "God, I'm going to get you so bad for that. Kiss me."

Rosa's face sets in an I'm-going-to-murder-you look that does nothing to faze Gina. Rosa was honestly expecting that, at this point. She's actually pretty thankful, because Gina standing her ground means she gets to grab the idiot bitch by the shoulders and crash against her in a... _spirited_ kiss.

As ways of taking out her aggressions go, it's not quite up there with grievous bodily harm, but it helps. Gina's hand is still on her tits, so she relocates her own hands to Gina's wrists, twisting them roughly away and instead forcing the redhead back until her back thumps loudly against one of the landing's doors.

(That's okay. Nobody is going to complain. All of Rosa's neighbors are afraid of her.)

"Ooh, rough," Gina coos once the kiss ends, arms up above her head, looking so goddamn sexy pinned up against the door that it makes Rosa even angrier. "I gotta level with you, Rosie... you being the dominant type? Least surprising thing ever."

Rosa stares her down, or tries to. This is more familiar territory, finally. "Shut up, bitch," she growls menacingly. "I'm in charge here. Got it? And _don't_ call me Rosie."

But again, Gina just fucking laughs. "Okay then, Detective Diaz," she drawls sarcastically, grin shit-eating. "You should know, though, every time you call me 'bitch' is just making it so much worse for you."

"Oh?" Rosa asks, voice low and menacing. "Bitch. Bitch. Bitch."

"Mm," Gina hums. Her smile still hasn't left her lips, but when she speaks again, there is a forceful edge to her voice that Rosa has never heard before, and which makes her knees go weak. "Okay, since you asked so nicely, let's dance. I'm going to break you down, Rosa. You think any of the losers you've slept with are anything compared to me? I'll do stuff to you that you've never even dreamed about."

Rosa doesn't respond. She can't quite make her mouth obey the commands of her brain, because Gina is absolutely right. A lot of the people Rosa has fucked were tough, but none of them were... well... Gina Linetti. Case in point – Gina's little speech should've qualified as "cheesy" if Rosa was the one pinned against the wall. By rights, with the situation reversed, it should've been downright ridiculous.

It's not.

"Invite me in," Gina asks sweetly, and Rosa steps back, releasing her iron grip on Gina's wrists.

"Um," Rosa hears herself saying. That is not something that Rosa Diaz says. "Look, Gina—"

"Mmmmmm," Gina interrupts, raising one finger to brush against Rosa's lips. The touch makes Rosa shiver. "Mmm. Just go."

She stands indecisive for a moment, then turns on her heel and walks up to her own door. She fishes her keys out of the pocket of her black jeans, missing the keyhole once or twice before hitting home – she shouldn't have had that last scotch – and lets them both into her apartment.

Instantly, Gina sequesters herself on one of the stools, cooing about how cool it is how Rosa's apartment has a bar.

"It's a counter," Rosa says.

"Mm, no," Gina responds thoughtfully. "It's a bar, because you're gonna serve me a drink."

"You've had enough," Rosa says.

"Mm," Gina repeats, "no. And while you're fixing me the drink, where do you keep your Sherlock Holmes hat?"

Rosa has to stop everything for a few moments and try to process that. "My _what?_ "

"Your Sherlock Holmes hat. You know? Your hat? Like the one Sherlock Holmes wears? I'm going to do a thing."

Rosa knows what a deerstalker is, of course, but that's not a word she's ever going to say. So instead she crosses her arms and says, "I _don't_ own one."

Gina spreads her arms in indignant disappointment. "I thought you were a detective."

"That's not—" Rosa stops herself, refusing to humor this ridiculous topic any more. "Shut up," she says flatly.

Gina does nothing of the sort, of course. "All _right,_ fine, I'll go _au naturel._ But I'm going to do some detectiving anyway."

"Detecting," Rose says. Despite herself, she's kind of curious to see where Gina's going with this.

Gina ignores the correction. "The case I'm going to solve," she drawls smugly, "is the case of why you were so antsy about letting me in here. I'm going to logic the hell out of this situation, and you tell me if I'm on the right track, 'kay?" Rosa doesn't respond, so Gina continues: "Okay, so – first off, if you didn't want me in here, you would've just told me to buzz off. You're not someone who says 'um,' babe. You're not Boyle."

Rosa's lip twitches. Fuck. She caught the _um._

"Which leads me to believe," Gina continues, "that you wanted me here, which, by the way, thank you, that's so incredibly flattering and understandable."

Rosa sighs, lifts her arms, lets them fall back down limply, palms slapping against her hips. She nods begrudgingly. "Fine. Okay. Yeah."

"So you wanted me in here, but you were super nervous about it. Why? It's not because you didn't want me to see where you live, because you would've just gotten angry about it. So it's something deeper. Is it that I put you in your place? Oh, by the way, I changed my mind." Gina grins infuriatingly up at Rosa. "Finding out you actually have a secret submissive streak? _That's_ the least surprising thing ever."

Rosa slams her hand down on the counter. "Get to the _point._ "

"Sheesh, fine," Gina says, making a face. "You don't have to get all _Rosa_ about it. I don't think it's the sub thing, because you strike me as – well, as an angry sub, TBH." She slides off the barstool so that she can lean over the counter, fingertips splayed on the smooth surface, face intense. "So it's still something deeper... Here's what I think."

Here's what Gina thinks: Rosa was once a model student at a Catholic school, before voluntarily transferring to ballet academy. Then, at some point, Rosa quit – in her own words, expelled due to violent behavior. Later, she enrolled in the academy, became a cop, and the rest is history.

"Of course," Gina continues, perhaps noting the way Rosa's fists ball up at this seemingly pointless repetition of already established facts, "that's just half the truth, isn't it?"

The whole truth is this, Gina posits – the reason Rosa left ballet school was due to the abuse she suffered at the hands of the other students. Perhaps that led to violent behavior, or perhaps that was just a lie to intimidate Sergeant Jeffords; maybe Rosa just wanted a clean break and a fresh start.

"You thought you'd be alright because ballet school is, like, ninety-nine percent girls, right?" Gina asks. Rosa just stares. "Girls can be _super_ cruel too, you know."

Except she didn't really know back then, did she? Because ballet academy was the first co-ed school Rosa ever attended. Before that, she went to Catholic school – a Catholic school for boys.

"Gina—" Rosa says, but Gina cuts her off.

"No, no, let me have this. I'm killing this. I'm right, aren't I? Everything fits. That's why you're always acting so tough—it's because everyone was so terrible to you growing up. Hey, I have a question: do you still have your—"

"Gina!" Rosa yells, and for a wonder Gina actually shuts the hell up, maybe because she catches sight of the tears standing out in Rosa's eyes. She even has the decency to look a little concerned. "If you tell anyone about this, I swear to God I'll stomp on your head," Rosa says, and though the threat is seriously undercut by the quiver in her voice, Gina seems to listen.

"Wow, do you really think I'm going to go spreading this around?" she asks, but before Rosa can think up a response, she waves her hand in the air. "Okay, no, don't answer that. Look, I one hundred per cent promise you this stays between us, okay? I'll be super respectful. Besides, if everyone knows, it's not gonna be useful at all once you decide to mutiny."

Rosa feels as if she's going to topple over, but she remains standing, as still as a statue. "Get out," she breathes, her voice barely audible.

But Gina just stays where she is, gaze unwavering, and Rosa is once again reminded of the fact that despite being selfish, vain, vapid, lazy, cruel and narcissistic, Gina isn't actually dumb. "Do you really want me to?" Gina drawls.

The silence stretches out, and Rosa becomes aware that the tears have begun to spill down her cheeks. "No," she says. She's not sure if she's standing so still because she still desperately wants to retain some semblance of cool, or because she's too afraid she'll break into a million pieces if she moves a muscle.

"Hey, hey, hey," says Gina. She speaks in her usual tone of voice; she doesn't try to baby Rosa just because she's crying; she doesn't come round the counter and go for a hug. Rosa is thankful. "Look, I'm not good with the whole touchy-feely thing. I know you aren't. None of us are going to feel better if I have to watch you crying your eyes out and getting all snotty and gross." She takes a seat on her stool again, lacing her fingers together as she looks at Rosa with—yes, with a measure of sympathy in her eyes. "Which you aren't, by the way. Gross, that is. So don't even ask, 'kay?"

Rosa still doesn't respond, because she can't put anything she's thinking into words, but Gina doesn't seem to require a response. She just spins around on the stool, turning her back to Rosa and planting her elbows on the counter. "I'll just give you a moment."

Now that she doesn't have Gina's knowing eyes on her anymore, the spell is broken and she can move again. Rosa turns on her heel and marches into the bathroom, slams the door behind her, locks it. She sits down on the toilet and punches herself in the thigh, hard, several times. It doesn't make her feel any better, but it's distracting, at least. When she stands up again, wincing at the ache – that's gonna leave a bruise – she's stopped crying, at least. But she catches sight of herself in the mirror, and God, her make-up is just fucking ruined.

She emerges from the bathroom ten minutes later, with a fresh make-up job, because no fucking way is Gina gonna see her both crying and without make-up on in the same day. Gina is sitting where Rosa left her, though she's turned around again. Mysteriously, the vodka Rosa keeps in a cabinet above the sink and a carton of orange juice has appeared on the counter, along with a glass containing a presumably roughly half-and-half screwdriver. "Oh, hey," Gina says, drawing out the 'hey.' "You look so much better."

Rosa sighs, clenching and unclenching her fists. She speaks. "Ballet school was terrible. I was better than all of them, but they didn't start hating me until I asked them to start calling me Rosa. This one chick, Gloria, she called me a shemale. I punched her in the face and dislocated her jaw."

"Oh _wow,_ " Gina says, looking truly enraptured at this sudden revelation. Anyone else would probably have looked more horrified at the story, which would have been a way more appropriate reaction... but Gina thrives on dysfunction, after all. Rosa can't help but flash a smile for a second.

"We were alone. She told everyone she tripped while practicing her fouetté _._ I guess she was too scared of me to rat me out." Rosa considers for a moment. "Or she realized what a fucking asshole she'd been." She shrugs. "Probably not. I quit school the next day. By that point I could pass well enough that new people didn't know I was transgender. So I stopped talking to people who knew me before, got into the academy, made new friends, and here we are."

She pauses for a moment. Then, too far gone to care, she adds: "And yeah, I still have my dick."

To her surprise, Gina is surprisingly mature about this juicy nugget of information, though she does glance down at Rosa's crotch (Rosa has had years of practice and is a master of tucking, plus she wears special panties, so it's impossible to tell). "Well, I'd like to see it sometime." Mature for being Gina, anyway.

"So, what, now we're not gonna fuck?" Rosa asks.

Gina tilts her head, brow furrowing. "Um, what? No. Are you serious? _No._ We just had a _moment_ here, Diaz. _Total_ mood killer." She downs the rest of the drink, then sets the glass down. This time she does come around the counter. Once again Rosa finds herself unable to move as Gina closes the distance between them, gets up on her tiptoes and kisses Rosa gently on the lips. "Buuut, I do know where you live, so I could just drop in on you unannounced whenever I feel like getting lucky."

"If you ever do that I'll kick your ass," Rosa threatens.

Gina hums. "Call me a cab."

Rosa does.

In the doorway, Gina stops for a moment, looking like she has something she wants to say. Rosa waits. Gina seems to change her mind, and leaves with a: "Good night."

Rosa has never been so happy to get rid of another human being, and she's been very happy to get rid of a lot of human beings countless times in the past.

When she gets into bed, it feels a little too big for one person.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't find a single fic with transwoman Rosa, which is honestly just a fucking travesty, so I decided to write my own!
> 
> This isn't entirely canon-compliant, I know, seeing as Terry called the Catholic school Rosa attended. If it had been a boys' school, that would definitely have come up. But if you ignore that little detail, this actually works!


End file.
